


Could Cope if I Could Hold You

by scribbledmargins



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2018 Winter Olympics (kind of), Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Lack of Communication, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 22:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13750506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribbledmargins/pseuds/scribbledmargins
Summary: He wants a lot of things with Jamie. Most of the time, winning olympic gold has seemed the most obtainable.





	Could Cope if I Could Hold You

**Author's Note:**

> sooo I meant to write a pwp about Tyler getting dicked down after that video from his house party was going around on tumblr last week and then I accidentally got feelings all over it oops? 
> 
> quick warning for some very light alcohol and substance use and mentions of Tyler/others and Jamie/other? Also nothing against Jamie's gf but in this universe they broke up over the summer... 
> 
> Huge shout out to nargynargy and sidneycrosbyisawitch on tumblr for some unexpected and much appreciated cheerleading!

It’s February. 

They’re on a hot streak and it’s fucking awesome, but the voice in the back of Tyler’s head keeps reminding him that he could be half a world away playing on Olympic ice with Jamie and _that_ fucking sucks. And like. There’s no guarantee that he would have made the team or that Jamie would have, but. He knows how they’ve been playing. They’re both healthy. They would have gotten the call, if anyone had been getting calls this year.

He _wants_ it, is the thing, has _been_ wanting it ever since Jamie came home with a gold medal in his pocket and looked at Tyler with his earnest eyes and said things like, _I never would have gotten there without you_ , and _next time we’re gonna win together_. 

Well. He’s wanted to win olympic gold since he was kid—fantasized about it less than he fantasized about the Stanley Cup but more than pretty much everything else—but it’s been a solid four years now that he’s been dreaming about winning olympic gold _with Jamie._ Four years of imagining how it would feel to pull on a red and white jersey and see Jamie there in the locker room with him, four years of thinking about _next time_ and _win together_ and the way Jamie’s medal had felt in his hands. 

 

He wants a lot of things with Jamie. Most of the time winning olympic gold has seemed the most obtainable.

 

+

 

When it was announced that the NHL would definitively not be sending athletes to the 2018 Olympics, Tyler’s solution was to try and ignore his feelings on the matter and hope that they went away. 

That was his solution for a lot of things. So far it hadn’t worked for any of them. 

It went okay for a while though; the games themselves felt far away at first, then by the time interest started ramping up in earnest the new season was starting and there were plenty of far more pressing things demanding his attention. A new coach to get used to, new players, an energy that he hadn’t quite realized was missing from the team until it was back, the way it felt when Rads clicked on their line, _the fucking A on his home jerseys_. 

And.

Jamie. Jamie being single again, Jamie falling into their old patterns of sitting a little too close and staring a little too long, Jamie rubbing his thumb over the A on Tyler’s chest and murmuring that it looked good, Jamie keyed up and touching him probably too much after Tyler got a fucking Gordie Howe hat trick. All those Jamie things that Tyler thought he’d finally gotten under control.

 

He _had_ been doing a pretty good job of ignoring The Olympics though, right up untilthe Team Canada roster was announced, and it was suddenly very real that they were happening and he wasn’t going and neither was Jamie and neither was anyone else in the NHL. It got…progressively harder to ignore from there. 

The ads were everywhere and people were talking about it everywhere, all the time, and sometimes when it came up in the locker room Jamie would catch his eye and smile this sad little half smile like he was thinking about it too, thinking about the promises they’d made each other that they weren’t being allowed to keep.

Then he was on a plane to Tampa with Klinger; thinking about how an All-Star break meant no Olympic Break, and how Klinger was on absolute fire and it wasn’t fair at all that he would never know if that would have been enough to get hima roster spot in South Korea to represent his home; and then he was doing shots next to Phil Kessel’s little sister and tying to give her shit for representing the clearly inferior North American country, but his heart wasn’t really in it because _shit_ at least Amanda still got to _go_ to The Olympics, still got to try for that gold; and then he was sitting on the beach with a very sober Brian Boyle and a very drunk Alex Ovechkin, watching PK and McDavid stumbling out into the ocean trying to jump over waves while he left a drunk and rambling voicemail on Jamie’s phone that started with him being bummed that Marchy had gone back to the hotel early to hang out with his adorable family and also a little worried that PK would accidentally be responsible for McJesus drowning in the Gulf of Mexico, and then devolved into him trying to remind Jamie that they should be spending Tyler’s birthday in South Korea while Ovi yelled over his shoulder, cursing out Bettman in Russian until Brian grabbed Tyler’s phone and hung it up because he was a solid dude like that. 

 

Jamie made him listen to the voicemail after their next practice, giggling the whole time, and Tyler laughed too because it _was_ pretty funny, especially the part where they could hear Brian yelling at grown men that they were out too far and need to come back while Ovi yelled that they should try and catch a shark, and Tyler obliviously continued to talk about how he didn’t know how Marchy made a baby so cute. 

Afterwards though, Jamie had looked at him and said, “I wish we were going too. I really wanted to go again, with you.” And then he had squeezed Tyler’s shoulder and let his hand linger a little too long and all the laughter died in Tyler’s throat. 

 

Tyler turned 26 on a road trip instead of in the Olympic Village. 

 

+

 

And now it’s February. 

Which is somehow even worse than January was, despite the hot streak; pictures and stories about the Olympics are fucking everywhere, totally inescapable. _Jamie_ is fucking everywhere, totally inescapable. The floodgates are open and Tyler can’t stop thinking about how badly he wants to be there instead of here, about _next time we’ll both go I promise,_ about how much he _wants._ And—worst of all—about how there might be another chance for him in four years, but probably not for Jamie. They’ll both have to stay on top of their game and stay healthy and even then it’s a long shot unless a whole lot of Canada’s young talent punks out, and completely moot if the league decides to keep them home again, and he just. 

Wants. 

Jamie has a gold medal, and Tyler won at worlds but it’s starting to feel like they’re destined to never win anything big together. They can’t get close to the cup. The one time they made team Canada together they both got hurt before the tournament started. Their Olympics goal got fucking cancelled. 

 

Tyler wants to win something with Jamie just like they’d promised each other they would back when they were high on defied exceptions and gold medals and making the playoffs. Wants Jamie the way he did back then too and can’t quite figure out if it’s more or less of a pipe dream now.

 

Jesse comes for a visit and figures out pretty quickly that Tyler’s in a weird mood and when he says they should have a party and see if that shakes Tyler out of his funk, Tyler agrees. He’s not with Jamie in South Korea and he’s not with Jamie here, but he has plenty of friends, plenty of people he likes hanging out with and he just turned 26, and the teams on a hot streak and he could do with a reminder that his life is actually pretty fucking sweet, so why not?

Their win streak ends the same day as the party because _of course it does_. They get absolutely clobbered by Vancouver which means Tyler is sad and tired on top of already being kind of sad and tired all week, which makes him feel less like partying but more like being surrounded by a bunch of people he likes and has fun with, so it mostly works out. 

A lot of the team begs off though, choosing to go home to their families and get some rest instead. A year ago, Jamie would have been one of them and Tyler would have told himself that he didn’t care and he almost would have believed it.

Jamie doesn’t go home this time though, oh no. This time Jamie follows Tyler out to the parking garage looking better than anyone with a ripped up shirt and a full beard has any right to, and then he follows Tyler back to his house even though the party isn’t starting for another couple of hours, and he helps set things up and helps get the dogs settled outside on the patio and he keeps smiling at Tyler and moving around the house like it’s his, like it’s three years ago, like any minute he’s going to pin Tyler down on the couch and wrestle him for control of the remote and pretend they don’t both know what he’s doing.

“Hand me those cups? I’m gonna put them over on the side of the counter.”

“What, these?” Jamie smiles, loose and open and not at all like someone who just got shut out by the fucking Canucks, and hold the bag of red cups over his head. “Come get ‘em.”

He does, of course he does, crosses the kitchen and pokes at the ticklish spots on Jamie’s side and lunges for the arm he’s got above his head and it’s fun, tussling in the kitchen, just a shade too flirtatious to be strictly buddies, one more thing they used to do but didn’t anymore, one more thing to make him feel unsteady. 

When he finally gets the cups away they’re both a little out of breath and still standing too close together. 

Jamie’s eyes drop to Tyler’s lips and for a second he thinks _maybe_ , but then Jamie’s gaze shifts to somewhere behind Tyler and he’s pulling back a little bit, 

“Hey, man.”

“Hey.”

Tyler turns around and sees Jesse standing on the other side of the counter watching them. Jesse quirks an eyebrow at Tyler but he doesn’t do anything else, just goes back to exchanging pleasantries with Jamie. 

It’s good that Jesse walked in when he did, Tyler reminds himself. It doesn’t matter how they feel or how close they get to the line, nothing’s going to happen, that decision was made a long time ago. The whole thing feels less romantic and exciting than it did the first time around. Now he just feels weird; off-balance and a little sad.

 

He feels…not better exactly, but not quite sad anymore when the house fills up with people. It’s nice to be surrounded, to see parts of his team mixing with the friends he’s made in this city all on his own apart from hockey; to see Jesse there too, easily slotting as easily as ever into the life Tyler’s built in Dallas; to hear all these people he loves laughing and having fun together. He bounces from group to group, wine in hand and comfortably tipsy. If anyone can tell that he’s brushing up against everyone’s arms and shoulders on purpose, they’re kind enough to not mention it to him.

A group of his non-hockey friends are passing around a joint in the home theater room, and Tyler is wine drunk and touch hungry enough to let them pull him in and convince him to shotgun. 

Laura pushes him down into one of the seats on the first row, spins his hat around so it’s backwards, and straddles him. He feels a little better, a little more stable, just from the weight of another person in his lap. She holds his face between her smooth, cool hands and positions him just the way she wants, then her warm mouth is sliding against his, pushing in the smoke and he inhales while her fingers push against his skin just the right side of too hard. He breathes deep and holds. She pulls back slowly, gives him a bare kiss, and he exhales, slumps back into the chair and waits.

It hits him fast. He blinks slow, then keeps his eyes closed, every inch of his body feeling warm and heavy and like it wants to be touched. Someone ruffles his hair and he pushes back into it which makes whoever it was laugh. He opens his eyes. His friends are sitting there smiling fondly at him and at each other and he grins back. He’s hooked up with a few of them over the years, nothing serious but a pretty good system, and he’s starting to feel like if he stays here with them he’s going to try and start something in full view of the rest of the room and anyone who wanders by the open door. 

“I gotta, um…” 

He gestures vaguely at the door.

Laura winks. “Hit it and quit it, huh bud?” 

Tyler laughs while he stands up and wanders back to the kitchen, but he can tell his reaction time is a little slow. It feels like he’s moving through syrup. 

His lips are kind of tingly and he thinks it’s ridiculous that he ever uses them for anything other than kissing. The brush of his clothes against his skin is almost too much. 

Jesse’s standing in there, pouring wine into a plastic cup, and Tyler’s a little bit crossfaded and vaguely turned on and feeling too much and he loves Jesse so he tells him. 

Jesse takes one look at his face and bursts out laughing. 

“Dude. You look…I don’t even know.” 

He pulls out his phone, still laughing and points it at Tyler, who just blinks at him and hangs on to the counter. 

 

He kind of wants to go out in the backyard and cuddle with the dogs.

He kind of wants to get fucked in the bathroom. 

He kind of wants to kiss everyone at the party, his teammates and his friends, all these people he loves all together in his house. 

He _really_ wants to find Jamie and just, like, crawl into his lap and stay there. 

 

Jesse puts his phone away and pours Tyler a glass of water, still laughing. He pushes it in front of him and, because Jesse knows Tyler really well and knows how he gets when he’s like this, he slides an arm around Tyler’s waist and lays a smacking kiss on his cheek. Tyler leans into him, grateful for the affection, easy and uncomplicated like cuddling with Jesse always has been. 

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

“You’re a really good friend.”

He laughs. “Why, because I gave you some water and a cuddle?”

“Mhmm. You’re very cuddly.”

“Uhh no, dude, that’s you.”

“Hmm. Yeah.”

Jesse pulls away and smiles at him. 

“Drink your water.” 

“Ok.” 

“Your boy is trying to kick some USA ass at beer pong in the living room, by the way.”

The whole house is full of Tyler’s boys, but. He knows who Jesse means. 

“Cool. I’m gonna…” 

Jesse laughs again. “Yeah, I figured.”

 

Tyler ends up at the beer pong set up, leaning heavily against the side of the table and it feels like a foregone conclusion. He was never going to end up anywhere but next to Jamie. 

Jamie, who smiles at him, wide and happy, and then goes back to his terrible chirping and slightly less terrible throwing skills, and Tyler gets distracted staring at his huge fingers on the tiny ping pong ball, and all the skin exposed by his ripped out collar and the way his throat moves when he has to take a drink. 

Tyler thinks about Canada vs USA beer pong, and then about Canada vs USA hockey, and then about gold medals, and it all gets tangled up with how he’s thinking about all the things Jamie’s hands can do and how he’s wanted to get his mouth on Jamie’s neck forever, and then he’s thinking about Jamie fucking him on the floor next to a too small bed, both of them desperate and naked except for their gold medals and everyone nearby knowing exactly what they’re doing and how good it feels because the walls are thin and they’re too far gone to care. 

Then he thinks about Jamie fucking him right here and now on the beer pong table in front of everyone. 

Tyler has to sit down. 

Jamie frowns at him. 

“You ok?”

“Uh-huh.”

He sounds breathless, even to his own ears, and Jamie frowns at him some more. 

“You sure?”

“Just getting tired.”

Jamie doesn’t look like he quite believes him but he goes back to his game anyway.

His skin feels too tight, like it can’t contain the wanting, and his blood feels like fire licking through his veins, and everything is moving too slow and not slow enough and he wants to lick the hollow of Jamie’s throat so bad he can almost taste it.

He should’ve gone outside and hung with the dogs. He should’ve gone with Jesse to… wherever it was he went. He should’ve stayed and had semi-public group sex in his home theater.

But he didn’t do any of those things so now he’s stuck here feeling dazed and a little like he might cry but mostly just turned on and overwhelmingly into Jamie and his everything. 

Tyler’s house is full of people he loves but he doesn’t love any of them the way he loves Jamie. 

He's ben pushing it down for so long, pushing it down and telling himself it doesn’t matter, and that he’ll get over it, and he’s so sick of this dance they’ve been doing and its not like Jamie doesn’t know, it’s not like Jamie hasn’t felt the same way. 

Because. 

Jamie _knows_. has known for years, since the start pretty much, back when Tyler was almost painfully obvious, doing shit that would have been embarrassing if Jamie hadn’t been just as bad, always touching him and smiling at him and crowding into space to trail his fingers across the skin on Tyler’s wrists or dipping under the hem of his shirts to graze across the top of his hips. 

If they’d never said things like _I wish_ , and _I want,_ and _maybe if things were different._

If Jamie had never pressed a gold medal into Tyler’s hand and said _I couldn’t have gotten there without you_ , and wrapped his big arms around Tyler and pressed the barest hint of a kiss into his neck. 

Jamie knows and Tyler knows and they’ve both been ignoring it for years; for the sake of the team and their own ambitions. For themselves when they dated other people and when Jamie fell in love with someone else and got his heart broken by someone else. Because it became a habit. 

So, Tyler decides, fuck it. They’re both single now and he never stopped wanting Jamie, not completely, and he never stopped catching Jamie shooting looks at him even when they were both pretending all of that was done, and ignoring it never got them closer to The Cup, never got them anywhere but back to square one. And they’re probably never going to the Olympics together. Maybe aren’t going again ever.

So. Fuck it.

He wants Jamie’s hands all over him, he wants Jamie to fuck him in the bathroom and then take him upstairs and do it all over again but slower. He wants Jamie to lay on top of him and keep him on the ground until he stops feeling so sad and unmoored. 

He wants to win The Cup with this team and kiss Jamie at center ice in front of God and Gary Bettman. He wants to wrap his whole stick in that stupid pride tape without waiting for the cover of a league sanctioned event. He wants to go to the Olympics in four years and go down on Jamie up against too thin walls.

He wants a lot of things, most of them with Jamie, and some of them wildly unrealistic. 

But not all of them. They could bring the cup to Dallas. He could make an olympic roster. He and Jamie could stop being afraid of loving each other. He won’t know unless he tries.

“Actually,” He says, standing up, “I need to talk to you for a minute.”

Jamie just looks at him for a long moment. It reminds Tyler a little of how he looks when he’s mapping out a play in his mind seconds before they jump over the boards onto the ice.

“Ok.” 

“Ok.” He turns to the rest of the table. “He’ll uh, he’ll be back in a, in a minute, um.”

“Someone can tag in for me.” 

Tyler takes off, trusts that Jamie will follow. 

 

They end up downstairs, outside on the patio. 

Jamie looks at him expectantly. “What’s up, Segs?”

“I miss you.” He blurts out. It’s not what he meant to say, but what the hell. It’s not like it isn’t true. 

“What?”

“I _miss_ you. Like. I know I see you all the time and that’s great but it feels like you got so far away and even when you aren’t you kind of are, and we were supposed to win a gold medal _together_ this time and now we _aren’t_ and that sucks, I really wanted that and I just—“ He feels his voice catch in his throat, “I want _you_. All the time. Still. It won’t go away, Jamie.”

He looks thunderstruck. “Tyler…”

Tyler shrugs, helpless. He feels like he’s going to shake into pieces, like he needs to cry or scream or come, desperate for some sort of release. 

“I just…needed you to know, I guess.”

“I, um. You know I… Tyler, you _know_.”

He crosses his arms across his body to keep himself from reaching for Jamie. He doesn’t feel high anymore, doesn’t feel weightless and invincible. He feels small. 

“Yeah. Yeah I know you _did_ , I think you still do, but. You stopped. _We_ stopped. Mostly. For a while. And that was _fine_ , I wasn’t, like, _waiting_ for you or something, but. But I kind of think that maybe I am now. Waiting for you. and I don’t—“

“I think about kissing you all the time.”

Tyler’s heart falls into his stomach.

“What?”

Jamie bites his lip but he doesn’t look away. 

“I think about kissing you all the time. I want to be touching you all the time.”

“You should,” Tyler swallows, “You should touch me now.” 

Jamie reaches out and curls a hand around Tyler’s shoulder, slides it up to the back of his neck, let’s his thumb settle at the hinge of Tyler’s jaw, brushing the skin just below his ear. Tyler leans into it, feels something settle inside him. They’re barely a breath apart. 

“There are a lot of people in my house.”

“Yeah.”

“We should go back up.”

“Probably.”

“You should stay. After they leave. Stay here.” 

_With me_ , he doesn’t say.

“Wasn’t planning on leaving.” 

“Good. That’s good.” 

Tyler takes a deep breath and steps backwards. 

 

He barely remembers the rest of the party; it’s a blur of people and more wine, and trying not to shiver every he time he catches Jamie’s eye across the room. 

When the last guests finally leave and Tyler’s got the deadbolt thrown behind them, he goes in search of Jamie. 

 

He finds him in the kitchen, holding a giant trash bag and picking up plastic cups and empties. He’s solid and real and he looks so good that for a second Tyler can’t breathe around the tangle of love and lust expanding in his chest. 

He closes the distance in two steps, wraps his hand around Jamie’s wrist and pushes it down towards the floor until he drops the trash bag and slots his fingers in between Tyler’s instead, pinning him under a loaded gaze. 

And then someone else is saying, “What the fuck.” 

Oh right. Jesse. Tyler had kind of forgotten he was even here. He and Jamie should stop staring at each other and deal with that, probably. Neither of them move. 

“Um. I’m gonna…leave this here. And go upstairs to my room and close the door and just pretend really hard that I have no idea what’s going on down here. Not that anything is! Um. Ok, goodnight. Bye.” 

Jesse bolts up the stairs. 

Tyler would maybe feel kind of bad except Jamie just slid his free hand up under Tyler’s shirt and he’s stroking the skin right above Tyler's pants and _fuck_ it’s not the first time he’s had Jamie’s hands on him like that but it’s been so long and they’ve always stopped right here, right up on the line but never across it and he’s so tired of _wanting._

They need to talk more, need to sort their shit out, but right now Tyler just needs Jamie’s hands all over him.

Tyler tips his head forward until he’s pushing it into the bare skin of Jamie’s collarbone, eyes on the floor, and tightens his grip on Jamie’s hand.

“When I was sitting next to you earlier, before I pulled you outside, I was thinking about what it would be like if you’d fucked me right there in the middle of the party.” 

Jamie exhales hard, like someone punched him.

“Or. Actually first I was thinking about what it would be like if we were fucking with gold medals.”

“Jesus Christ, Tyler.”

And then Jamie’s moving, turning them so Tyler’s pressed back against the counter, knocking off his hat, and finally, _finally_ kissing him. 

Tyler lets himself fall into it, into Jamie, holds him by the shoulders and pulls him closer, giddy with the relief that this is finally something he can have. 

Then Jamie pulls on his hair and everything inside Tyler jolts. 

He pulls back on a gasp, and Jamie lets go, stuttering out an apology. 

“No, I like it. You should do it more.” 

Jamie groans and drops his face against Tyler's neck as he winds his fingers back into Tyler’s hair. When he tugs at it this time he presses a string of kisses up the side of Tyler’s neck and across his jaw and back over to his mouth. Everything inside him lights up and Tyler’s hips jerk forward, chasing some kind of friction. He’s almost all the way hard already and when he pushes closer he can feel that Jamie is too.

As soon as Jamie loosens his grip Tyler’s scrambling for a hold on the counter behind him and lifting himself up to perch on the edge and wrap his legs and his arms around Jamie’s big, solid body, to pull him in as close as possible. They keep kissing, deep, intoxicating kisses, and when he feels Jamie tugging his shirt up he leans back enough to let him get it all the way off, and then pulls him close again, relishing the way the material of Jamie’s shirt rubs against his bare skin. 

“Please.” He whispers against Jamie’s mouth. “Please.” 

Jamie pulls back, just a little, but it still feels like he’s too far.

He brings his hands up to frame Tyler’s face, lays kisses across his cheeks and his nose and the corners of his eyes.

“Anything you want.” He murmurs. “What do you want?”

“Everything. I want everything with you.” 

It’s painfully honest, even after what they talked about outside. Jamie’s fingers flex against Tyler’s face and he draws back, eyes wide. For a second Tyler thinks he’s gone too far, but then a slow smile is spreading over Jamie’s face.

“Ok. Everything.”

He says it like he means it the way Tyler means it, like he’s talking about so much more than sex and Tyler has to kiss him then, has to push how much he feels into the kiss, because he can't capture it in words, can’t even try. 

“ _Touch_ me. _Please_.”

Jamie doesn't hesitate. He fumbles with Tyler’s fly for a second and then he’s got it open, is reaching in and—

“ _Fuck_. Fuck, you feel so good.” 

He reaches down blindly to grab at Jamie’s pants, and it takes a couple of tries but he gets them undone and pushed down, and then he’s wrapping his hand around Jamie’s dick and Jamie is moaning and his rhythm falters a bit but he keeps jerking Tyler off, keeps trying to kiss him, even though they’re both uncoordinated and messy and mostly just panting into each other’s mouths, because it’s good it’s _so fucking good_ , and Tyler can’t— he can’t—

He gives up on thinking, on supporting his own head, let’s it fall back against Jamie’s shoulder and just _feels_ ; Jamie’s rough hand on his dick—a little dry but mostly just good, and Jamie pushing into Tyler’s loose fist, the skin of Jamie’s neck under his lips while he makes all sorts of undignified noises, the soft cotton of Jamie’s shirt where Tyler’s twisting it with the fingers of his right hand to pull him closer, as close as he can get him. It’s still not close enough. 

For a split second he imagines how it would feel to be even closer, to be inside Jamie, to have Jamie inside him, and that’s—

“I’m gonna. _Jamie_ , I’m…” 

“Yeah. Yeah, baby, I know. You’re good, come on.” 

Jamie turns and brushes a kiss against the side of Tyler’s head, and then Tyler has to bite down hard on the corded muscle under his mouth to keep from shouting the house down when he comes. 

Jamie swears and jerks him through it, then before Tyler can gather himself enough to even try to get Jamie off, Jamie’s pulling his hand out of Tyler's briefs and reaching into his own and _jerking himself off with Tyler’s come what the actual fuck._

“Shit that's so hot. You’re so fucking hot, god, I want you to come all over me later.”

Jamie groans. 

“ _Yes._ I will, I want to. Want you to feel me on you for days.” 

“Yeah. _Please_.” 

Tyler leans down and kisses Jamie again, can’t not do it, and that’s what tips him over the edge. Jamie tenses and comes, then sags against Tyler like all his strings have been cut, still kissing him as they both come down, and then pulling back enough to rest their foreheads together while they catch their breath. 

Tyler feels wrung out, exhausted from sex and the rollercoaster of his own emotions. He could fall asleep right here in the kitchen. 

“Tyler.”

“Hmm?” 

“Should go upstairs.”

“Huh?” 

“Upstairs. Sleep. You have a bed. We should go there.” 

“Right. Yeah. Let’s do that.” 

Jamie steadies him while he jumps down off the counter, and Tyler takes his hand and follows him up the stairs. In the master bath he takes pulls a fresh toothbrush out of the closet and passes it off to Jamie. They move around in each other in silence, getting ready for bed side by side. When they make it back to the bedroom, they strip down, still quiet and when Jamie throws his clothes into the hamper right alongside Tyler’s it feels important. 

They see each other naked nearly every day. There’s nothing new about the view, but everything new about the setting. 

Tyler can’t help but reach out and run his hands along Jamie’s chest. He didn’t think he’d ever get to have this, not really. 

“Are you trying to start something here, Seggy?” He’s grinning. “Gotta be honest I don’t know if I’m up for much more than sleeping.”

“Me neither. Just like touching you.”

Jamie’s grin softens into something sweet and fond. He’s looked at Tyler like that forever, but never this blatant, never without blinking and looking away. 

“Yeah. Me too.”

_I want to be touching you all the time_. 

Tyler lets himself be led to the bed, lets Jamie pull the covers over them both and then gather Tyler close. 

Tyler falls asleep almost immediately, warm and sated and happy. 

 

When he wakes up there’s grey light filtering through the window and Jamie is already awake, watching him through half open eyes.

They’ve drifted apart in their sleep but Jamie has his arm extended across the space between them, his hand resting close to Tyler’s face. 

Tyler turns and presses a kiss into his palm. 

“Hi.” He says. 

Jamie smiles. 

“Hey.” 

They lay there in the early morning light, staring at each other. Tyler thinks about gold medals and earnest eyes and _next time we’ll win together_.

Jamie brushes Tyler’s hair back off his face and shifts closer. 

It feels like winning. 

 

  +

END

**Author's Note:**

> ps jesse went back downstairs once he was sure the coast was clear and let the dogs back inside because he's a solid fucking dude.


End file.
